


Alight Like Fire

by tanyart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Aries Boyfriends, Astrology - Zodiac, Birthday, Fire, Horns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1403278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those born under the Aries sign are prone to burning bright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. temper

**Author's Note:**

> A belated Eren birthday fic! AU where everything is the same, but with Zodiac signs and powers. (Sort of loosely based off this post [here](http://tearitar.tumblr.com/post/81372395001), and [this](http://www.astrology.com/love-compatibility-aries-aries/2-d-lvmt-aries_aries) is also pretty fun to read.)

Every year the mark of Aries appears like clockwork at the beginning of spring.  That in itself isn’t so amazing—every Arien will wake up with it for the next month—but it’s different on birthdays, and Eren looks forward to it each time.

He turns in his bed, head feeling heavier than usual, but the extra weight is comfortable and familiar.  He puts his hand up, fingers bumping against a curled horns above his ears, and buries his nose back under the blanket to hide his excited grin before he sits up and throws his arms out in a stretch.  Ariens, in Eren’s opinion, don’t have it so bad.  He doesn’t have to deal with scales for skin like the Pisceans do, or sprout grass and flowers under his feet every time he takes a step like those born under the Virgos sign. 

It’s perfect and it suits.  Eren can’t imagine being anything else.  Not many other people can, and he never hears anyone admitting otherwise.  It’s a part of them, just like breathing air and knowing it goes down to their bones and flowing through their veins.

Eren opens his hand, tiny flame flickering to life over his palm. His powers tend to be easier to summon today than the rest of the year.  Barely a thought could cross his mind and he feels he could have his whole body up in flames, bright and burning but unscathed.  It’s only on his birthday that this happens, the extra boost of powers and immunity to fire, and there’s always something about the sun that makes him more…eager _._   Not exactly ecstatic or happy, because he’s had terrible birthdays before, but even if he’s not happy, he always feels more _alive_.

But he wakes up with a grin, so it’ll be a good birthday today.  The flame in his palm jumps, licking his face like a warm caress, and he clenches his hand to put it out.

In the bunk across the room Jean stirs in his sleep, blinking awake in less than the usual amount of time.  He eases up on his elbows, hazy dawn sunlight from the window lighting his face.  Jean has the ram horns too, colored like cream with a spiral lining of ripples all around.  Even Jean, who loathes early mornings, seems to be less grumpy during their three weeks of annual Aries signing.  

Eren shifts in his bed, sheets rustling to get Jean's attention, and waves.  He mouths, _good morning,_ over Armin’s still-sleeping body and climbs out of bed.  He points to the ceiling.

Jean rolls his eyes, but he nods; _I’ll meet you there_.

* * *

The rooftop of the barracks is a cinch to get to with the maneuver gear but slightly more difficult on foot that requires a few inventive ways of climbing over stacked crates and barrels.  By the time Eren reaches the roof the sun is past over the horizon and his fingers are gritty and scratched.  Dawn is long over but the sky still manages a gradient pink hue, blending to blue at the edges. Eren takes a seat, satisfied.

Jean shows up a little while later, with a ladder that is a bit too short to reach the roof.  Eren huffs at him for his lacking sense of adventure but gives Jean a hand up anyway.

"Never heard of a ladder before, genius?" Jean asks as Eren hauls him over.

"I feel like I could climb _mountains_ ," Eren announces, inhaling the cold air, fresh and sharp in his lungs.  He sighs, blowing out a gust of fiery air to prove himself.  His breath comes out in a crackle of campfire sparks, embers popping before dying out. 

Jean tilts his head, flecks of fire falling across his shoulders and floating into his mouth as he breathes in and swallows like he could taste it.  His grip on Eren’s hand tightens, and he looks at Eren like he’s seeing something new for the first time.

Probably the aura, Eren guesses.  Another birthday perk.  Mikasa and Armin get the same way on their birthdays in Eren’s eyes, like he feels closer to them, or maybe more sensitive to their elements and signs.  He wonders how Jean would feel on his birthday, perhaps feverish in the way only Aries signs can be or bright and shining under the sun.

With a grin, Eren pulls him close, horns clacking against each other, and drags Jean down on top of him, stupidly pleased with the world.  Invincible, even.

"You always get so goofy on your birthday," Jean mutters, but he stretches out, body catching the morning rays of light.  He worms his face under Eren's neck.  “Mm, you’re warm.”

“What are you talking about?" Eren says, head turning to accommodate Jean's horns.  He winces as the point digs into his cheek.  It's their first Aries phase together at sixteen; they hadn't thought about the logistics of their temporary physical changes, only having taken advantage of it to literally butt heads in the years before.  "We always run warm this time of year.”

“You’re warmer than usual," Jean corrects, rumbling at his throat.

“I’ve never noticed.  Maybe you’ll be warmer too when your birthday comes.”

Jean makes a noncommittal noise and sits up.  He glances towards the sun, eyes narrowing for a brief moment before he turns back to Eren.

“I got a gift for you,” he says, pushing himself higher and straightening his shoulders. His voice carries like it’s a declarative statement, determined and firm.

He sounds proud, almost obnoxiously so if Eren hadn’t been hit with a wave of intense curiosity himself.  Eren looks at him, expectant, but he sees no gift in sight, unless it’s in Jean’s pocket or hidden elsewhere. 

“Where?” he prompts, because despite the strong declaration, Jean looks like he’s about to lose his nerve.  Eren bumps his head against Jean’s, prodding.  Their horns bounce off each other with a sound like two wooden boards clapping together. 

Jean pushes back, teeth bared.  A hint of smoke seeps through his mouth before he tosses his head back, nerves and courage regained out of sheer annoyance. 

“I’ve been working on it since the Aries phase began,” he says haughtily, but at another expectant look from Eren, his mouth slants into a self-conscious, wry smile.  “I don’t think I’d be able to do it outside our signing.”

Eren pushes up on his hands, watching as Jean keeps glancing at the sun, flexing his fingers and turning his body to the dewy light.  He can feel Jean gathering his energy, which would explain the hesitance and constant sprawling to soak in the sunlight.  But at the same time, it’s a tiny gift in itself, looking at Jean in the morning sun where his hair can momentarily flash deep gold with all the shadows clinging attractively to the angles of his face.

“Hey,” Eren says, grabbing onto Jean’s hand and leaning in.  “Hey, thank you.”

Jean’s face colors and he blinks, startled.  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

Eren opens his mouth, half the words already formed in his mind to say that he _knows_ , but Jean looks good, so nice and full of life today, so wonderfully _alive_.  But Eren can see Jean is already on edge and nervous, so he snorts. “Then get on with it, I’m getting impatient.”

“You were _born_ impatient,” Jean retorts, shifting closer.

“It’s an Aries thing.”

“No, it’s a rude jerkass thing.”

Eren grins, and rude jerkass or not, Jean tips his head forward, resting his forehead against Eren’s.  He shuts his eyes, brow furrowing.

“Open your mouth, just a little,” Jean says.  “And close your eyes for now.”

Eren does, unquestioning and silent.  He parts his lips, feeling the tickle of Jean’s warm sigh and tiny bump of their noses.

And then Jean kisses Eren, soft and dry at the corner of his mouth.

“Happy birthday,” Jean says, and inhales with a crackle of sparks.  He puts his hand beneath Eren’s chin, angling just right, and exhales a slow, burning flame into Eren’s mouth, a bright blue fire that feels like it’s crawling down Eren’s throat down to the pit of his stomach.

Eren sucks in a breath, tasting the foreign tang of someone else’s fire, and he realizes it’s not _just_ flame, but a little bit of Jean’s own power.  He’s never thought of it before; he had assumed all Ariens were similar to each other, holding the same blazing wildfire contained into their bodies.  He opens his eyes, seeing through a haze of heated wavering air at Jean’s distorted face. 

Jean sighs again, flames licking at their mouths, and it reminds Eren of fire forges, tempered white hot steel, and a steady, controlled flame. It’s not just power either, but _Jean_ , through and through.  Eren can feel it, spikes of bravery and jolts of temper, but most of all he feels the bubbling affection welling in his chest and spreading through his body.  Eren laughs, delighted beyond reason.  There are no words, just Jean and his emotions filling Eren to the brim like molten hot liquid.  And, fuck, Jean _loves_ him. The heat of it lingers inside Eren, more prominent than the rest. His toes curl in their shoes and he laughs again.

If thought he could climb mountains before, Eren is certain he would’ve have been able to _fly_ over them now. 

He shuts his eyes, breathing in and out, until Jean finishes the spell with another small kiss, and Eren becomes acutely aware that they haven’t even touched throughout the entirety of Jean’s gift.

Eren opens his eyes, suddenly dazzled by the morning sun in his vision.  He sways back, licking his dry lips.  It tastes like smoke and ash, but it’s a flavor Eren’s known to love all his life. 

“How…” he begins, just as Jean slumps back. He pulls at Jean’s collar, hands burning into the fabric and hotter than any iron.  “How did you do that?” he demands as steam rises from Jean’s shirt.

“What? Go figure it out yourself!” Jean says, looking tired but pleased.  He braces himself up, pushing into Eren’s outstretched arms.  His smile is brilliant, dazzling Eren more than the sun ever could.  “So, you like it?”

Even though he can’t replicate the gift (not yet, at least), Eren grabs Jean by the face, holding it like precious fire in his hands, puts everything he has in making sure his thank you kiss is _searing._


	2. ignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun doesn't shine on Jean's birthday, but that's fine.

There is no sunlight when Jean wakes up on his birthday, but then again the weather never bothers to accommodate anyone’s schedule so there’s no point in being disappointed with it.  It’s not like he can tell just by looking out the window either; the whole special ops team has relocated to one of Captain Levi’s underground haunts, somewhere under Sina where sunlight only shines through sporadic dusty cracks in the ceiling.

Jean finds himself a little relieved.  His horns have snagged at one corner of his pillow but other than that nothing feels different.  He tests out his powers by cupping his hands and breathing a little fire into them.  The flame puffs against his face, brighter and hotter than usual, but that’s expected.

In the next bedroll over Eren shifts in his sleep, one hand clenching his blanket before relaxing.  Jean crawls a little nearer, quiet enough to not stir anyone else, and waits a moment for Eren to wake.  It should be soon, since all Aries tend to wake at the crack of dawn during their annual phase, and sure enough Eren’s eyes snap open, clear and focused on Jean.

Eren blinks, rolling to his side to face him.  Not another second is wasted when he murmurs, “Happy birthday, Jean.”

Jean sits up, a weird tingly feeling fluttering in his chest, but he doesn’t realize anything is wrong until Eren pushes up on his hands to kiss his cheek, and Jean promptly bursts into flames without warning.

The air in the attic goes hot, sucked in like a miniature gale, but Eren has the presence of mind—or personal experience, most likely—to shake Armin awake so Armin can deliver a slap of cold water into Jean’s burning face.

“What the fuck?” Eren says, smoothing out his scorched blanket. The tiny fire snuffs into smoke under his hand.  He reaches over to pat out the line of glowing embers over Jean’s right leg, but his palm over Jean’s thigh only makes Jean dangerously close to blowing up entire the hideout.

“Uh, uh,” says Jean as his head spontaneously goes up in flames again.

“Eren…” Armin says, taking Eren’s hand away with his icy fingers. “I think... you should let Jean try to control himself first.”

Eren falls back, frowning and looking a bit hurt and confused, but Jean is drowning in his own mortification and near nakedness because, somehow, he’d managed to burn off the majority of his sleepwear.

“Oh my god, what happened? Jean, what the hell,” Connie groans from his side of the room. “Aren’t you sixteen today?  Shouldn’t you know how your powers get all weird by now?”

“Connie, shut up and wish me a happy birthday like a normal person,” Jean snaps, feeling like he’s on the furthest end of the wet and cold spectrum.

“Then don’t try setting the room on fire like a normal person!” Connie retorts.  “But happy birthday.  And your hair’s still on fire.”

“This is _not_ how I want to start the day,” Jean moans, working around his horns to smother his hair out.

Which, of course, is the perfect thing to say the moment Captain Levi and Mikasa run into their room, powers shimmering in their hands and ready for a fight, and that’s when Jean gets hit with the absolute certainty his birthday was bound to go downhill from there.

* * *

Jean spends the next few miserable hours of the morning avoiding Eren.  He tries to takes up guard duty and watch duty, but Captain Levi puts him on a temporary ban from doing anything remotely active for the entire day.

“Do you know what a fire can do underground?” Levi says, low and dangerous.

Jean swears he can feel the floor quiver beneath his feet, the shift of dirt and pebbles under his shoes.  He wants to ask if Levi knows what an _earthquake_ can do, but he also really wants to keep his face intact.  Clicking his mouth shut, he only nods and breathes a sigh of relief when the Levi leaves him and the ground goes back to being solid.

In a desperate attempt to keep busy he takes up mending his old clothes behind a crumbling building. Now that he’s gone and burned a shirt and a pair of trousers to a crisp, he’s only got a few sets to wear now.  At any rate, he figures staying outside is better than being indoors and risk burning something down.

Jean scowls. The whole thing is just _weird_.  He has always been able to control his powers, even on his birthdays.  He _knows_ he becomes more reactive and charged with energy during the day, but it’s always having something to do with the sun.  Sunrise and sunlight are his intrinsic favorites, deep down under his complaints about waking up too early during the Aries phase, but there isn’t any sunlight underground, so he has no real excuse or reason.

Muttering to himself, Jean leans his head against the stone wall of the building, grinding his horns in quiet frustration and drumming his heels against the wooden crates he sits on.  The thing with Eren doesn’t make any sense. It’s like he’s made of gross greasy oil and Eren happens to be figuratively shooting sparks his way.  It takes so _little_ to go from pleasantly warm to literal hellfire every time Eren throws a smile or a kiss his way.

“Ugh, what a fucking nuisance,” Jean says under his breath, and sticks the needle through one of his shirts.

But not a single stitch gets done before Eren shows up, peering around the corner of the building with a displeased look.

“Have you been hiding?” says Eren, exasperated.  He takes a seat next to Jean, unrepentant about his nearness, about how Jean’s body seems to turn feverish and the needle starts to glow orange between his fingers.

It takes a second for Jean to return to his normal temperature, but the fact that he has to _think_ about it aggravates him to no end. The needle cools off and Jean sets it aside.  He really wants to blame Eren for this, he does, but it’s a shitty tantrum to throw and Jean would really like to start acting that one year older now.

“Sorry about this morning,” he says, and if it sounds graceless and blunt, Eren doesn’t seem to mind.  “The extra magic is a pain.”

Eren brow furrows and his hands flex in his lap.  The tips of his fingers are black with ash, flaking over his trousers. “Why do you see it as a bad thing?”

“Well, if this morning hadn’t been any indication…” Jean sweeps his arm out in a flicker of fire, like striking a tinderbox to kindle.  The flames die out instantly, but the point still stands.  

“That was a one-time thing.  And I think it was my fault,” Eren says, frowning.

“That’s another thing about it, too,” Jean says, but Eren keeps looking at him expectantly.  For a better answer, maybe.  Jean sighs. “Having more magic is a hassle.  You know, more responsibility to not set things on fire.”

Eren sits back, thoughtful.  “It doesn’t have to be a burden,” he says.  “I don’t see it like that.”

“Obviously you wouldn’t,” Jean says, unsurprised and sensing another argument, but Eren’s frown only deepens.

Eren never goes for subtlety, but he seems to drop the topic. He shifts to the side, hand digging into one of his pockets.  “Got you something.”

Heat prickles at the edge of Jean’s limbs, but he holds out his hand and Eren drops a rounded stone in his palm.

“Uh,” says Jean, rubbing his thumb over the smooth surface, and he blinks at how the weak lantern light passes through.  It’s not stone, he realizes, but hard glass the color of spring leaves.

“I made it,” Eren says, grinning as Jean holds it up. “Out of sand, without going to a glassmaker or anything. Did it on my birthday since, you know, we don’t burn hot enough the rest of the year.”

He is interrupted when Jean’s hand spontaneously catches on fire from holding the glass.

“Sorry,” Jean mutters as Eren’s hands clasp around his fist, firm but soothing, and Jean promptly shoots out a jet of flame right into Eren’s face.  “Oh, my _god_ , I’m out of _control_.”

“No. No, it’s fine.  That’s the point,” Eren mutters, shaking his head to clear the fire like he’s shaking water from his hair.  His immunity to fire seems to be working just fine, though he has to cough twice before he regains his breath.

He takes both of Jean’s hands, putting them together, and waits.

The glass goes hot between Jean’s palms and Jean tries his to stifle his magic.  He doesn’t want to break Eren’s damn gift, but Eren is doing Jean no favors, looking at him with a crooked grin that makes Jean’s gut burn like wildfire.

“Make something new out of it,” Eren prompts when Jean continues to do nothing but struggle internally over Eren’s closeness and thumbs brushing over his fingers.

“What? So I’m basically making my own birthday present?” he says with a nervous laugh.  He concentrates around the little glass piece in his hands.  The glass is hot, but it’s nowhere near malleable. There’s a limit to Jean’s magic, and that kind of concentrated power is one of them.  “I can’t _melt_ glass.”

“You can burn down entire districts. You can _almost_ blow up a house.” Eren scoffs like there’s no difference.  He leans in, licking his lips, and smiles.  “You can melt a tiny piece of glass.”

Jean is about to argue the difference between randomly lighting shit on fire and needing the skill and focus to pour everything into one object, but Eren tilts his head and kisses him quick, eyes golden and bright, just like condensed sunlight.

And, suddenly, Jean thinks, _so that’s what it is_.  That’s where it comes from, that extra jolt of energy.  He’s deep underground where he hasn’t seen the sky or the sun proper in two days, but he can still summon fire as easy as breathing.

Unable to help himself, Jean pulls Eren close, and Eren kisses him again, crackling dry sparks inside their mouths.  Eren’s hands are still over Jean’s, squeezing tight and he burns off Jean’s excess magic.

The glass turns to liquid in his palms, and Jean can’t get over how cool Eren’s lips feel, not quite like ice because Eren is a person of fire too, only different from the way they give life to it.  He chases after the feeling, after Eren’s body pressing against him, and it’s just about the loveliest thing Jean has felt since pressing his spell over Eren’s lips on his birthday.

They finally taper off into a calming warmth.  Jean is pressed to the wall with Eren on top of him, still holding his hands to keep him from combusting in on himself.

“…Thanks.”

“Haha.  It’s funny I have to put you out this time,” Eren says, letting go to rub away the flames creeping up Jean’s arms.  He pats Jean’s shoulder and Jean can’t really tell if it’s a gesture of affection or if he’s still partly on fire.  Probably both.

“It’s a real hassle, huh?” Jean smirks, watching steam rise from his chest, titan-like.

“No.  I don’t mind,” Eren says, bumping horns and _that_ —Jean knows for sure is affection. “What did you make?”

Jean opens his hands, takes a look, and then shuts them.  “Um.”

“Let me see,” Eren says, trying to pry them back open.

“Hey! No.  I need a do-over,” Jean says.  “Come here, kiss me again.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren knees him in the stomach and does a dirty trick that involves his mouth brushing against Jean’s jawline before he plucks out the glass from Jean’s slack grip.

And there, between Eren’s forefinger and thumbs, is the piece of glass in the shape of a tiny, sparkling heart.

Eren presses his lips together.  He hands Jean back the glass.

“Do-over,” Jean insists desperately, watching as Eren’s cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red.

Instead of taking his hands, Eren takes Jean’s face, looking at him squarely with his sunny golden eyes. Jean leans in, mortified at how his body is already sending smoke signals.

“Fine.  Do-over,” Eren says, moving closer, “But I don’t think it’s going to change anything.”

It wouldn’t, Jean knows.  The piece of glass is going to stay stupidly heart-shaped forever no matter what he does, but he rushes forward and kisses Eren anyway just to make sure.


End file.
